Threads of Fate
by Lord of Forgetfulness
Summary: A few words is all that is needed to ruin the lives of the inhabitants of an entire island. After losing everyting, standing against the whole World and its megalomaniac masters isn't all that difficult, anymore. See it burn, whatever it takes. A dark-ish take on the Insert trope.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: A dark-ish take on the insert trope (not SI though). I really tried to ignore this story, but it was really insistent. **

**Anyway, this work is unbetaed, so typos and errors and all that jazz are to be expected, considering that english is not my first language. **

**There's a further rant at the bottom, but with that out of the way, I present you (not so proudly): **

**Threads of Fate****, Chapter I**

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There was a very short period of pain, surprisingly. Everything after the fact was plain numbness.

She could see wounds opening all throughout her body, crimson red blood flowing freely from said wounds, yet not feel the pain. She could watch as the bodies of others in the same predicament as her or even her own body twist in ways they were not supposed to do, and still nothing registered on her brain.

Time passed, yet she didn't notice.

She saw a great deal of the others die in any and all possible ways. At this point, she was just waiting for her turn.

There was something inside of her that she kept repressed, yet so much time had passed that she no longer knew what it was. Sometimes she rolled familiar yet unfamiliar names in her mouth for a few moments, while the masters were occupied with the others, pondering what those names meant. Even then, she dared not to say anything about it to anyone, because she knew that she had kept those things buried for a reason… even if she couldn't remember why.

The only thing she did actually feel was the mark that had been mercilessly engraved in her back. It kept burning even after all this time, heavily weighting down on her psyche. There were words associated with it, but she couldn't possibly grasp them as they assaulted her mind in a rush every time she thought about it.

_The devil truly donned white,_ were the words she once had thought when she was first brought here. Now, their meaning had been mudded until she barely understood them.

She hadn't noticed the almost unending amounts of dread the white walls of the many palaces of her own personal hell gave her until she saw them go up in flames as the sun was slowly setting in the horizon.

The normal quietness of that place had been finally disrupted by the cacophony of battle, of shouts of freedom, of men giving orders, of others disobeying them. Explosions, gunshots, the sounds of swords meeting other swords or flesh, and agonized cries of those who were dying.

Her numbness didn't recede even as she saw her fellow captives, the ones she shared masters with, being gunned down to 'keep the peace'.

There were few left alongside her from the initial volley. Blood had splattered her from the adults, in particular, from a… _fishman_… who had shielded her.

An unbidden memory tried to make its way to the front of her mind when she saw the body of that fishman, but it didn't take long for her to push it back to the abyss. The only thing she could distinguish from it was the strange feeling that it had to do with _orange_.

She stared unfeeling at the barrel of the rifle that was aimed at her head.

She almost welcomed it.

Except that sweet oblivion didn't welcome her. There was a bang and she saw herself falling to her knees, but consciousness didn't evade her yet. There was blood running and staining her rags, and before long she coughed once. The coppery taste of blood went almost unperceived as she blankly stared at the growing puddle of blood – her own and everybody else's.

Multiple memories flashed before her eyes, many of which she couldn't make any sense of. Fragments of recollections not her own, disembodied, most she _couldn't have possibly witnessed_. But they were there.

A headache started to form.

Her mental bindings were coming undone, and slowly snippets of those repressed memories started to sneak their way back from the abyss. There was little she remembered clearly from before her captivity anymore.

Her increasingly foggy vision started to morph into a picture she hadn't seen for many years. For a second, the monuments of depraved decadence disappeared, and a small, colourful if a bit run-down township stood in place.

She tried to see the faces of the people going on their merry day, people she used to see every day, used to know. There was a muddled sound she couldn't discern, but she reflexively turned around to the view of a couple and a smile tried to force its way into her face.

They were familiar, though their faces were obscured. Without noticing, she opened her mouth to say something, but only a wet cough escaped her lips.

Bringing her hand to her mouth, she saw the blood.

She saw the blood running through the streets of the little township, as the houses were burned to the ground together with the inhabitants, and those who weren't killed by the fires were gunned down instead.

The headache at this point was so painfully strong it was unbearable, causing her to use the hand that wasn't keeping her from completely collapsing to the ground to grab her head in a futile attempt of regaining control of her mind. She kept trying to throw memories into the abyss, but more spilled from it than the ones she buried.

_I have to keep these from them, _she had said in one of her memories. She had every intention of keeping it that way.

With the restrictions steadily coming undone, she started to feel the wounds on her body again, the scent of gunpowder and blood and _death_ all around, the scalding breeze that made the fires stronger and stronger, threatening to consume it all and leave nothing but ashes behind. She even felt again the pangs of her stomach demanding nourishment, which she had completely ignored for so long.

Her numbness receded as steadily as her memories returned, as unbidden as they were. Slowly but surely, her thoughts drifted from keeping the memories in the dark to helpless acceptance as more and more incoherent memories kept crashing and tearing down on the walls of her mind.

_What does it matter, anyway, _she thought, a little mournfully, _if I am going to die today?_

She hadn't noticed that the soldiers were no longer there, and neither was the master. Her eyes were brimming with unshed tears, distorting her vision even more, as she tried to take in what was currently happening.

Many scenes, whether she had lived them or not, kept flashing before her eyes as she saw the scene all around her. One of the once-pristine white palaces collapsed not far from where she was, and the flames had consumed much of the nearby buildings.

It was for a fleeting second, but she saw a figure she _recognized._ She was sure she had never had seen that fishman in her life, but only seeing him for that moment a name jumped to the forefront of her mind.

_Fisher Tiger._

And she knew. Escape was possible, and in fact, many had done so. _Will _do so.

It was then, right then, and freedom was awaiting her just around the corner.

With that name, a great deal of… _visions_ related to the event at least tangentially came to her mind. Some of which were her own experiences as a slave.

And with those, the last bastions of her mental bindings came undone, and her numbness and apathy were instead replaced by dark, _scalding **hatred**. _

She willed her almost unresponsive body to move, to run, to duck under gunfire and to follow her fellow escapees. Luckily, the sky city wasn't particularly vast, and before long they were in the already overrun Red Port.

She couldn't really distinguish any word that was being shouted, as there was way too much noise – and most of all, _too many people _shouting at the same time. The ground was littered with bodies, and some captives were taking their time in torturing the surviving soldiers.

She didn't stop for one second as she observed what the so-called _Holy Land_ was reduced to in the matter of... less than an hour, clutching her injured side all the while, trying to stop the bleeding.

Memories kept flashing before her eyes, and with each one the **_hatred_** took a deeper root on her being.

_I will survive. I will survive, and **they** will regret it. **They** will regret everything they have ever done. **They will regret to have ever been born!**_ Her mind repeated again and again, step after step, as she made her way towards a ship that was being filled with escapees.

The hand that was covering her wound clenched painfully as she took one last look at the burning heap of that _Cursed Land. _Hundreds of haunted eyes met hers, some too broken, while others promised the **_scum_** _of this earth _much the same as her own thoughts.

**_I WILL BURN YOUR WORLD._**

That was the last thing in her mind before she passed out.

* * *

**A/N: Have you ever been merrily working on a story (or a few) and out of the blue _another one_ comes up and starts bothering you until you get the mother of all headaches? I did, with this one. Five days before I had to start to write it and leave my other works to the side because _it just won't shut up. _I even took a few meds to reduce the pain because _jeez _this thing is insistent. **

**If you are intrigued, this story is likely the result of the amalgamation of a character idea I had for another story (an _Overlord_ short story), various different plots of different dark stories I've read lately, some One Piece OC-Insert or SI, and sprinkles of Doom Metal. Yeah.**

**I haven't written in this style for a while. It's less on what's written and more on what's _implied_, if you catch my drift. I think I made many things too obvious, but then again I remember people in the past missing things that I considered obvious. Ehg. At least I have a general idea of where this story is going and have a few defined scenes here and there, particularly around now, a few years into the future, and during the Marineford Arc. I hope I didn't say too much, but I think many would already tell where this is going. **

**Also, got the second chapter already written. I'll post it sometime in this week, maybe. **

**Thank you for reading, leave your thoughts, whatever. **

**See ye. **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Eh, I know I said I'll post this one sometime this week. Maybe it's a bit early, but whatever. It's mostly because I have the third chapter ready and I'm currently working on the next, so why the heck not. Beware of typos and grammatical errors.**

**Threads of Fate, Chapter II**

* * *

She didn't know how much time had passed since then by the time she sprung awake again, as the sun was already high in the sky again.

She took a moment before her thoughts organized themselves, while she listlessly observed her surroundings. Someone had thankfully treated her wound, however basic it had been. There was a bandage covering her injured chest, and even if it snug just a bit too tightly, she was grateful that she didn't regain her freedom only to lose it to blood loss shortly after.

There were many injured alongside her in deck, sprawled about in such a way those who were mostly fine could operate the ship without stumbling into them.

Visions kept pouring into her mind, but now they were much more subdued than before. As she remembered the events that led to her current predicament, the visions started to focus into a narrower path.

She inspected the crew of escaped slaves, looking for clues. Most of those memories were only faces, very rarely a name popped up.

_Fisher Tiger. _Not present, as far as she could see. A general lack of _fishmen_ suggested that he was not likely to be in there, together with _Jinbe._

She didn't actually know who that was, but the name sounded important.

Invariably, if she didn't try to focus, all memories drifted towards her own imprisonment, as if her own head tried to mock her. As if **_they_** still had any control over her whatsoever. Every thought about **_them_ **filled her with disgust, and her disdain towards everything **_they _**were related to grew.

She shook her head.

_This is not the time for that. Focus._

She tried to bring up any vision that may be relevant to the current situation, with varying success. The picture of a scantily clad woman, together with _that mark._ A name surged not long after – _Hancock._

_No, she must have been younger than that by this point. _She tried to find anyone with that description, but no luck. The image of two massively larger women at each side of this _Hancock_ also didn't bore any fruits when she looked for them.

The image of a Straw Hat kept appearing in most of those vision-memories, but she could see no correlation between many of them. As if she was lacking a piece of a puzzle.

Her train of thought was interrupted when her stomach decided to make its hunger _painfully_ obvious.

All of a sudden, she was very aware of how little energy she had available – she could practically _feel_ unconsciousness looming at the edge of her mind, slowly making its way to ensnare her within its claws, and never let her go.

Even if it was a stupid endeavour, she fought against it with all her being. She will not die, not from what she suffered, not from what she will likely suffer in the future, until her promise to the world was completed.

She will survive with only sheer _willpower _and **_spite_** if need be.

Her stomach made its discomfort known again, and she acquiesced to its demands for food.

Even if she was able to survive with nothing, that didn't mean using any and every thing available to make her goal easier was prohibited. Nourishment and a better physical state included.

Sadly, the amount of food aboard the vessel was limited and most of it had been already taken by the others – and although there was more than enough left for her at that moment, it wouldn't last much longer. She didn't know what the sailing objective was, if any, or how long would it take, but she hoped against hope that it would be soon.

There wasn't much for her to do, which left her alone with her mind and an orange.

She sat down in a shady corner on deck, staring at the citrus in puzzlement as her mind tried to rummage through visions.

_Orange. Fishmen. Connections unclear, but they were there. Fishmen, sharks, saws. Jinbe. Warlords. A colourful archipelago with a dark underbelly. Auction houses. Disdain. World Government. **Hate. **Pirates. Marines. Marine Admiral. An old man with glasses, and more fit than he should. A bubble-headed **scum. All consuming rage.** The Straw Hat, again and again..._

Her thoughts were interrupted again, but this time by an outside source. She blinked repeatedly to clear her mind and take stock of her surroundings again. Without her noticing, time had passed and it was nightfall again. The frantic shouts of the escapees and a screeching noise had been the culprits behind dragging her consciousness back into the real world.

Suddenly, the screeching noise was replaced by what was _obviously_ the voice of a man through a speaker.

_"This is the Marines! Fold your sails and drop the anchor!" _

Her blood ran cold at the man's voice.

_"We are to inspect any vessels in the area in the pursuit of escaped slaves. If you harbour any you are to relinquish them immediately. If you fail to comply, you will be thereby branded as criminals and be treated as such."_

She could _hear _the malicious smirk of that man. Their orders may have been as stated, but she had absolutely no doubts that if this were to be a normal vessel, all of the crew would be taken as captives either way.

Like they did with her and her home. _Like they did_ _with…_

She couldn't finish that line of thought as intense, skull-shattering pain invaded her mind, causing her to cradle her head in her palms as the sounds of a brief battle washed around her, before the ship she was in started to violently shake.

When the headache receded to a manageable point, she quickly got to her feet as she saw the wooden ship catching fire in many places, and in other places entire chunks of wood were blown away by cannon fire.

Those who were still standing were returning fire to the much bigger Marine vessel, shouting obscenities as they did so in a desperate attempt of maintain their freedom and their lives.

Her eyes found the insignia on the Marine ship's sails, and liquid fire flooded her veins again. The Cross of Five Circles. It made her want to puke at the sight.

She saw the enemy's minions blindly following their orders. _Fools. 'Fighting for peace', right. Fighting for Genocidal slavemasters will certainly bring forth the 'peace' you seek so much._

She saw one rifle that had been dropped on deck, close to the body of a former slave. Probably his weapon before he was killed. She didn't even think twice, she picked it up.

Not really knowing how to use it beyond "point at whoever you want dead and pull the trigger", she did just that. Took aim at one of the many mooks on the enemy ship and shoot.

She was obviously unprepared for the kick, and the shot failed its intended objective, while the rifle jumped from her hands. It was useless as it was now, either way. She picked another one.

Luckily, she was a rather small target compared with the other escapees, which made her not a primary target. It was also easier to find cover.

After a vision made her lose concentration for a second and made her almost lose her head, she ignored her mind with practiced ease as she almost-robotically continued to fight back.

Pick a rifle or a handgun. Find cover. Shoot. Repeat.

She was completely unprepared when the ship blew up into a million splinters, however._ A barrage must have detonated the gunpowder below deck, _she thought.

Except, she saw the figure of the Marine commander running through the air back to his ship.

_Splash._

She was lucky she wasn't impaled by any debris. Still, the saltwater was a torture to her already wounded torso, making the act of hanging on a sizable piece of driftwood all the more difficult.

A quick look around told her that there was no land anywhere near, and she wouldn't last long by swimming aimlessly.

She turned her eyes towards the remaining vessel, hoping that her rage fuelled stare would ignite the Marine ship and everyone on board as it slowly made its way towards the few remnants of the escape ship to pick up the remaining stragglers and likely put them in chains again, or hopefully kill them.

Why.

Why.

_Why-_

_"SEA KING!"_ one of the Marine mooks shouted as an enormous head that _dwarfed the Marine Battleship_ sprung from the waters, creating waves as gargantuan as the creature was.

Waves that made their way directly towards _her._

* * *

**A/N: Oh, forgot to mention it the last chapter, but this is also probably _heavily _influenced by many greek myths, because I had to read _many _greek myths for an exam not long ago. If you are familiar with some of them, you'll likely understand that they fit quite nicely together with a dark-ish storyline, especially if taken from the perspective of the mortals. Yikes. **

**As I said previously, next chapter is already done, but I'll probably post it on saturday or something. Maybe before, if I finish chapter four and start with the fifth? I dunno. Luckily the headache receded and now I can focus on one of my other stories, so I'll be going from this to that to another. **

**Other than that, well, merry christmas for you, and thank you for reading, the whole mumbo jumbo.**

**See ye.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: There it is, for the four people that are reading this story, like I promised: **

**Threads of Fate, Chapter III**

* * *

The next time she regained consciousness, she _really wished she didn't._ For a brief moment, at least.

Somehow after the encounter with the Marines and the leviathan, she had ended up washed ashore together with a few pieces of driftwood, the sand beneath her oddly comforting and the sunlight starting to get unbearably hot.

Her whole body protested at every little movement she did, from her abused yet still covered wound to her ligaments, hell, she would have not been surprised if she broke a few bones during the events.

Her lungs burned with each breath she took, and her stomach protested ever more loudly with each passing moment. Her limbs felt heavy and she had trouble maintaining her eyes open, but she dragged her own body to at least rest on the shade of one of the trees not far from the shoreline.

Not a moment later after she reached the base of the tree, she collapsed on the ground. From where she was resting, she could see the sea, its calm waters mocking her as if everything was right in the world.

She wanted to shout angrily at it, yet only a small, intelligible grumble escaped her lips – she had barely enough energy to breathe, let alone _speak._

The mark on her back, currently hidden behind bandages, burned more and more with each passing second of her being idle.

Remembering took more time than she could've expected each time she did. Visions somehow got entangled with each other with no clear reason, but she knew of this world – _this world? _–, and of its events.

Some of them, those which appeared to be highly important.

How did she end up with such knowledge?

_Memories of a past older than her own self. _

Where did she come from?

_Of the present she wasn't present to witness. _

What happened on her past?

_Of the future that, evidently, has yet to come. _

_Who _was she?

The memory of that cozy town in a sunny spring island was ever more slippery each time she tried to grasp it, and when she finally did, it always deteriorated to a cruel, corrupted image and the **_hate_ **flooded her body all over again.

There were no names left. Not of anyone from that island, not even of the island itself.

And neither her own.

It didn't matter who she _had_ been, once. What mattered is who she was now, transformed by the years of living _hell._ **_Their_** faces imprinted forever in her mind, and she would do everything not to forget them.

She will see **_them_** again, as **_their _**faces warp from the extreme tortures she will inflict, until **_they_**'ll beg to be killed.

The burning from the mark receded, making her body infinitesimally easier to move, but easier still.

Her eyelids threatened to close heavily as she turned her stare towards the cloudless sky, but she found enough energy – or her will was strong enough – to pull herself into a sitting position.

There was an unexpected sensation on her left hand when she used it as support. Grabbing the oddly squishy yet slightly hairy object, even with her highly bleared eyes she could see it was a fruit. Or more precisely, a bunch of many small fruits.

Her stomach growled spectacularly at the prospect of food, and she remembered she only ate a single orange for _at least_ three days. Had been it able, her mouth would have watered at the sight of it.

Without much hesitation, she gobbled it down in a few moments, completely ignoring the disgusting taste in favour of eating as much as she could. Even in her starved state of mind, she found the things that vaguely resembled grapes absolutely unpalatable, but she forced them down her throat.

She knew very well what she might have been eating, but at that point, she didn't care all that much. It was _food,_ after all. With some luck, it would pay off in the future – though she wasn't particularly picky in that moment, anything to help her survive would have been fine.

A few minutes after she finished eating the damnable abomination that had been that fruit and nothing noticeably happening, she let a sigh escape her. She honestly didn't know what to expect, even with her visions being closely related to these kinds of things.

She was snapped out of her musings by the sound of leaves being displaced, and soft, almost unperceivable footsteps in the damp ground, coming from behind her.

It was under a blink; she quickly hit the ground as a _massive_ blur flew at where her head had been mere moments before.

She rolled out of the way before looking at what had attacked her, patting the sand around her looking for anything to use as a weapon.

A big freaking tiger had jumped at her, and impacted against the tree when she had ducked out of the way. She tried to swallow, but her mouth was painfully dry. She never reverted her eyes from where they met with the beast's, because she knew it would take it as an invitation to attack her again.

Her hands finally found a piece of wood, probably a remnant of the ship she had been travelling in before it was blown to kingdom come. The beast snarled from where it was crouching, slowly approaching her.

Fun fact that she just _knew,_ this thing was probably close to the bottom of the food chain in wherever that isle was. That was just the _Grand Line_ logic.

It didn't make it any less threatening for her in that moment though.

_You are nothing._

She couldn't afford to be distracted by her own thoughts, as the feline jumped at her again, determined to make her its lunch. She dodged again, this time to the side, and got to her feet.

Even standing, she was shorter than the imposing figure of the beast.

But she felt no fear. She had nothing to be afraid of, not anymore. No.

She couldn't complete a dodge when the tiger lunged at her again, and its paw met her left arm in a sickening crunch. She had already cut off the pain from her brain, so the only indication that that arm was going to be useless in the fight was the odd angle it was bent, and the fact that it only barely twitched when she tried to close the hand of that arm.

No matter.

_I will not die,_

She felt no fear.

_Not from anything the world throws at me,_

She dodged again, and this time she punished it by smacking it with full force with the piece of driftwood in the face. The beast recoiled and let out an angry growl.

She scowled at it, thoroughly annoyed with the tiger. _"Come on, you_ _oversized furball, let's dance!" _She shouted before going to the offensive herself.

_I will continue to live and be free, even if only to spite those who wish me dead or in shackles. _

The fight itself was rather short lived. She dodged a few more times before grabbing the piece of wood and stabbing it through the skull of the feline, killing it almost instantly. She slumped back to the ground, adrenaline quickly retreating from her body, leaving her even more fatigued and having more trouble breathing than before, but she was still alive.

Her bandages were coming undone and she was bleeding from many wounds, including the one she had suffered in the _Cursed Land_, and she needed to look at her left arm and see if she could do anything.

On the bright side, she had tiger meat for lunch and dinner, and probably for the next day, with some luck. That was one of her problems taken care of for the time being.

Granted, getting a fire to cook and getting the meat prepared had been two massive pains in the ass, but it looked that things were starting to look up, if only a little.

She used most of what remained from her rags to make a splint for her abused arm, and some strips to close the bigger wounds inflicted during the fight. Luckily, it seemed that no other freaky predator on steroids wanted to test their luck with her for the time being.

As she stared at the fire and slowly cooking meat, she let her mind wander and welcomed the vision-memories. She saw things, things that should have been impossible yet what appeared to be a wide amount of people did them with complete nonchalance.

Therein was the true key to be strong enough to thrive in this world – _this world? –_, it was all down to the power of your will.

She bit on one steak and started chewing with all the force she could muster.

Luckily for her, willpower was a thing she had in _spades._

A vision assaulted her mind again, but this one fled as fast as it came. Strangely enough, the only thing she could discern about it was _orange_, again.

She shrugged it off, as it was likely unimportant. She had more important things to figure out, like the whole willpower thing or the fruit thing, finding drinking water, or see if there was anybody else that washed ashore in the same island as her.

Or, if she was unlucky, whether there was Marine presence in the island.

Going by her experiences in this world so far, she wouldn't even find it surprising.

* * *

**A/N: So, I may have had questions of what do you think about this, but right now I can't remember them beyond "what power do you think she has now?"**

**Now, if you excuse me, I'm going back to sleep. I've must have eating something bad, because my _everything_ hurts. Whatever. If there is a next chapter, then it will be like in four to five days. **

**See ye. **


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Well, 'tis a little late. It seems I underestimated how tired and/or busy I would be around these last days. But enough of that, if you are here you are one of the fifteen people who were curious enough to continue reading. Without further ado, I present thee:**

* * *

**Threads of Fate, Chapter IV**

* * *

She stared listlessly at the horizon, watching the sun slowly rise into the firmament.

There was virtually no sound that she could perceive other than her own breath, and the few remaining embers of the fireplace she used the previous day.

The air was calm. There were no winds throughout the night, so resting hadn't been as miserable an experience as it could have been.

The sea was still. She hadn't seen the shoreline recede or advance into the island, as if the tides were mere myths. The sand just shy out of the water was constantly dry.

It was as if she was looking at a _picture-_

**_Pain._**

She ditched the thought. She had more important things to worry about in that moment than trying to reminisce about things she couldn't properly remember, and that wouldn't help her current situation either way even if her memory was clear.

Finding a safer place to rest was one of such things. Or, finding fellow survivors, if any.

She wasn't sure, as much as she had an uncanny amount of knowledge about the world, she wasn't omniscient by any stretch of the imagination, but it could be that the island she was an unwilling visitor in had a local population.

She grimaced at how would the locals would likely react at the sight of the _accursed_ mark on her back, but she would cross that bridge when she gets there.

She cradled her injured arm with the other, cursing her lapse of concentration that made her pain receptors to restart again. It wasn't anything serious – she had actually been through worse _then_, and she came out without any permanent injury.

There was a thought that refuted her common sense.

There was always a thought that refuted what _should be_ common sense in this world.

It didn't matter. What would change if she healed from wounds that should have been fatal, or her healing factor was faster than it should be? By all means, it was a boon to her objectives.

_So shut up. I am not you anymore._

Not because she didn't want to.

She tried looking through the shore first, as she would find any other that had washed ashore like her, before trying to venture into the eerie jungle that lied further into the island. If there were people living there, then the chances of encountering a coastal settlement was also high.

Her hike turned monotonously tedious rather quickly. There was very little to stimulate her senses, and it was driving her mad with the foreboding feeling that _something_ was about to happen.

There was only her, the sand, the sea and the sun.

No clouds, no winds, no waves, no _birds_,_ there's not even fish in the water!_

There was nobody in there.

Before she noticed, her feet led her all the way back to the dead fireplace she had used the night before.

She inhaled sharply at the implications. Such cruelty the threads of fate had, that the moment she declared war upon the world, she couldn't even keep true to her promise because she had stranded alone in some remote island that surely _barely anyone knew of!_

She didn't know when she started screaming her lungs-out out of frustration, and by the time she noticed, her throat had already given up as she started hacking blood all over again.

She stared at the sea in anger, before her gaze turned to pure disdain.

She may be alone in a deserted island, may be unable to swim anymore, may be full of injuries that would have made any lesser person collapse, may be utterly helpless against the foes she – or the world – set against herself.

She averted her eyes from the sea, and into the awaiting death trap of a jungle.

She may not know fully well what she was supposed to do, but there was a constant in this world.

_The force of your will, will lead you a long way. _

She was aware it was not infallible in any case, and that only relying on her will alone would lead to her certain demise.

_What is your dream?_

She forgot her previous answer for this question long ago. She thought it probably had been an innocent, utterly naïve and disgustingly innocuous dream.

But she was not her anymore.

**_I_** _want to see this world burn. _

And she would not settle for anything else.

Her corpse would be buried only after every last bastion of this abhorrent world order was reduced to cinders, and not a second before.

She stepped towards the forest, trying to be aware of her surroundings as much as possible.

She might not fully understand how it works. It did not really matter in the grand scheme of things.

It was the wildlife or her. The island or her. The World or her.

A vague idea of how to untap that potential formed in her head. For some reason, the image of the Straw Hat flashed to the front of her mind again. There was no wearer, only a rock.

That symbolism was lost on her, but the ideas that came with it not.

_Beat them by any means necessary. Then beat them only with a stick. Then with my fists. Then with my gaze. Then with my **will.**_

**Will reality into submission.**

The contradicting thought shouted at her that it was impossible. She simply grinned mockingly at it.

She made her life's objective not to care whether if something was impossible. She would do it either way. If she died – which she _wouldn't_ – then her determination amounted to nothing.

Beyond the knowledge that shouldn't be there, she didn't think that she was anything special. But with that knowledge, she knew that she could change that, that it was possible.

Being special was a mere result of the effort, in most cases that she was aware of.

Her grin widened even more. There was no real joy behind it, besides of maybe a sadistic satisfaction that flooded her body in anticipation of the future.

A future which she would be an architect of.

A future forged by the flames instilled in the minds of all who were wronged by the _World Government._

But that was only wishful thinking at that point, with her pathetic self being barely able to keep living.

She took another step forwards.

* * *

**A/N: Aye, it was a bit short - that was because I decided to cut and restructure a bit what happens afterwards, in a way that actually flows better in the next few chapters. Do try to read between lines (not only in this chapter, but in the others too), as I subtly or not so much addressed some things of the OP world. **

**Just now that I'm writing the notes, I was reminded of a song that may fit quite nicely. Don't worry though, it's not particularly heavy or anything. It's not the main one which inspired this story. Possibly. It's kind of hard to notice how much of the things I listen to seep into what I write. In any case, the piece in question is Chapter IV by Estatic Fear - the last third in particular. **

**I'm also kind of stumped on what name give this character. I've got a few ideas here and there, but I'm not convinced by any, and the first one I had in mind... well, I realized that it made very lame puns. **

**Enough of me already. Also, thanks for the review, YourHomeGirlJen, I'm glad you liked this. **

**See ye. **


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